


Small Miracles

by Nwar



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Humor, Miracles, Multi, Non-binary character, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 17:43:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20157550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nwar/pseuds/Nwar
Summary: Do you think Aziraphale and Crowley are aware that their miracles are being monitored by the highest in the land following the Nahpocalypse?





	Small Miracles

**Author's Note:**

> Based on how that lube miracle is in like, every single GO fic.

Obviously the minor miracles of angels assigned to earthly duties are not usually top-desk stuff. Before the apocalypse—or lack thereof—Gabriel was not the person to monitor Aziraphale’s little magic tricks.   
Similarly, Beelzebub was high ranking enough down in Hell that it was an underling that kept track of the things Crowley conjured into existence to do his demonly duties.   
For the most part, neither of them was really alerted to what Aziraphale and Crowley did unless they did it together. It was just too tedious for people as important to them.   
The irony that they were now scattered over Gabriel’s bed and doing just that to their respective earthly minions was not lost on them. They were looking over the receipts for the year. Heaven and Hell did respectively keep track of every little holy change that their representatives made on the planet, which were condensed to a single list at the end of the year.   
Gabriel was reclining against the headboard of his heavenly suite (he didn’t need to sleep, obviously, but heaven didn’t really have many private spaces—sin flourishes in darkness, after all—and his higher status allowed him a bedroom). Beelzebub was on their front, legs kicked up in the air carelessly behind them, tiny fly wings on their ankles fluttering. They both scrutinized their floating lists, displayed in a scrolling digital glow about the size of an A1 sheet of paper.   
Ninety-nine percent of the miracles were Aziraphale and Crowley. The other one percent was angels which had been sent down to actually accomplish things according to the Great Plan (both Gabriel and Beelzebub had long given up on the earthly duo ever accomplishing the actual tasks laid out for them).   
They scrolled quietly together. A sudden sobering up here. A button fixed on a two-hundred year old jacket there. A freshly baked croissant at two thirty in the morning. An earbud repaired. A very rare towel conjured.   
Beelzebub had just finished the last of their miracles (“Crowley turned a cheap drugstore bottle of wine to a fine vintage. This is not in demon protocol.”) and was turning back to Gabriel to see if he wanted to watch the sunset from above together when the list dinged. Both of them looked down again at the sudden new miracle on both sides.   
Both lists, both heaven’s and hell’s, had the same miracle that occurred at 10:45 pm London time. “Earthly representative has disappeared their clothing.”   
Gabriel and Beelzebub looked at each other, eyebrows shooting up. Before they could say anything, the next miracle came in simultaneously on their screens. Gabriel looked at his list worriedly. “Angel Aziraphale has requested additional efforts to be made with his mortal form. This miracle requires approval.”   
Gabriel cocked his head at the glowing miracle roster. He clicked the approval button without thinking too hard. “What do you think—”  
He was interrupted by Beelzebub’s alert ping.   
“Crowley has made his finger slick with lubricant which does not dry. Requires authorization, not within protocol for sodomization activities.”   
Beelzebub jumped to okay the miracle.   
“Bee!” Gabriel exclaimed, scandalized.   
Beelzebub grinned back at him. “It iz a sin, izz it not?”   
Before Gabriel could yell at them, another miracle popped up on his list. “Angel Aziraphale has miracled his corporeal form to be much lighter. No protocol for this, requires approval.”  
Gabriel yelped and stabbed the “approve” button. Beelzebub squealed, giggling at him.   
Two simultaneous dings. “Earthly representative has requested a bed, despite no need for sleep. Authorize?”   
Beelzebub hovered over the button. Gabriel looked back at them and sighed. He dropped his head to his chest. “Fucking fine, I guess.”  
Beelzebub grinned and Gabriel grimaced in disgust. They pressed the approval button at the same time.

**Author's Note:**

> That very rare towel is one I've been looking for for twelve years; a limited production promotional item for the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy tv series. I like to imagine that Aziraphale got one for Crowley since he was always tempting Douglas Adams to procrastinate. If anyone wants to grant a miracle and help me get one, I'll love you for 6,000 years.


End file.
